It is the end of an era in Nashville.
No, I am not referring to the closing of FGL House. I am referring to the retirement of one Sheri Lynn Bucy, she of Jugg Sisters fame. After 28 years and thousands of hours spent polluting the minds of tourists and locals alike, the wig-wearing co-owner of NashTrash Tours is finally ready to hang them up (her Juggs). Her sister and partner-in-crime, Brenda Kay, will carry on their legacy with The Brenda Kay Jugg Tour — alongside a bevy of other talented performers, including the great Jenny Littleton — but that doesn’t mean we can’t take a moment to weep and consider the impact the duo has had on this city.
If you’re unfamiliar with the Jugg Sisters, allow me to enlighten you: They are the OGs of Nashville’s transpotainment industry. Long before pedal taverns or party wagons or a rolling hot tub graced our streets, their Big Pink Bus was a staple of Lower Broadway and Music Row, offering a musical comedy show on wheels that was the first of its kind.
And get this: The show is actually good.
Score a coveted seat on one of their two-hour romps, and you’re liable to be complimented on your cleavage, told about their court-ordered hysterectomies and served cheese from a can. Maybe you’ll learn something, but I doubt it. “There goes Lance Armstrong,” they might say in a fake Southern accent any time an unsuspecting cyclist rides by on a bike. “That one-nut bastard.”
But that’s not why I love them, or why we should honor Sheri on this day. I love them because they are great stewards of this city.
According to the Nashville Convention & Visitors Corp, an estimated 16.2 million tourists came to Nashville in 2022 — and they are a peculiar lot. I should know. For several years, I hosted my own tour on the Jugg Sisters bus, and every weekend I had to face down red-blooded Americans from places like Columbus and Schaumburg and Broward County, Fla. — all of whom wanted to see the Jugg Sisters, but who got me instead because they booked late. Once during the 2019 NFL Draft, streets were shut down for two weeks, and my scripted route had to be altered significantly.
“And here is where we would usually go by the Cumberland River,” I would say as we rolled past an abandoned parking garage.
The customers were not pleased. That week, a woman left a one-star review whose title simply read, “Whaaaaaat haaaaappened???” As though spending an hour-and-a-half with me was tantamount to the shell shock of war. I imagined her limp body being wheeled into the hospital, eyes glazed over, brain-dead. “I’m sorry,” the doctor would later tell her bereft husband. “There’s nothing we could do. The tour fucking killed her.”
The Juggs faced no such issues. While they often like to joke that “the customer is always wrong,” they made customer service a cornerstone of their business. Every tour, they go around the bus, learning their passengers’ names and where they’re from. Later, they incorporate them into the show, whether that means anointing one of them that week’s boyfriend or riffing on an embarrassing fact someone offered up at the beginning of the tour. It makes for a memorable and positive experience for these visitors, and by extension, a memorable and positive experience of Nashville. By the end of the tour, there’s seldom a person on that bus who doesn’t feel like they’re Sheri’s best friend — which I sense she hates. We could all learn a thing or two about how to treat our guests based on the way the Juggs treat theirs — regardless of our industry.
The Juggs also manage to do all of this without sacrificing their principles or losing their edge. We locals like to complain about the transpotainment companies, but the Juggs are able to convey the city’s collective frustrations while not biting the hand that feeds them. They care about the preservation of country music, have outlawed bachelorettes from going on their tours and call out anything they deem stupid. (That last bit is usually directed toward the state Capitol.) They’re also staunch advocates of organizations like Nashville CARES and Nashville Pride, and they regularly tip our service workers as if it’s their last day on earth. Yes, they have told people that the red, roller-coaster-like sculpture on the Cumberland River (aka “Ghost Ballet”) floated down here from Six Flags Kentucky during the 2010 floods. But otherwise: flawless record.
So if you have a moment, head on down to the Nashville Farmers’ Market before June 2 and pay your respects. Buy some merch, or lay a wreath for Sheri and her trusty blue-haired assistant, Beth, who is also retiring. Rejoice in the fact that Brenda is continuing on as a solo act, and tell Sheri, from the bottom of your heart, that she’s your best friend. I’m sure she’d love it.
Thanks for the mammaries, Sheri.
